


The Necklace of Lasgalen

by Le_Creationist



Series: Eryn Lasgalen [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Battle of Five Armies, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:59:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Le_Creationist/pseuds/Le_Creationist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashamed of her conduct during the Battle of Five Armies, Tauriel returns to Greenwood with her King to resume her post as Captain. How Tauriel and Thranduil come to reconcile after so many disputes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the Hobbit movieverse! I wrote this after being hit by such inspiration, both by Tauriel and Thranduil's relationship as seen in the films, as well as by the few but awesome fics of this pairing. I welcome all feedback! I may add more to this story if there's any interest.
> 
> Side note: I personally believe that Tauriel and Kili were not given enough time to truly get to know each other. In this story, Tauriel does not love him but thinks of him as a dear friend. I don't think she would throw away 600 years of Thranduil's trust and favor for someone she's only just met. I do believe she'd challenge her king to let go of his isolationist policy in righteous anger, but I don't think she'd have challenged him so openly in front of her fellow soldiers for a fleeting love interest.
> 
> I also took a lot of liberties with the descriptions of Thranduil's halls and Greenwood/Mirkwood geography. Please bear with me!

“Captain, it is done.” One of her warriors approached her in the aftermath of the attack. The spiders' population waned in the aftermath of the battle but a considerable amount remained in the woods.

Tauriel stood silently, seeming to ignore her lieutenant. She breathed deeply to calm her racing heart then her lieutenant watched as she sheathed her sword.

“We will increase the frequency of patrols on the outskirts of the capital. Ensure the watchers report the slightest suspicion of any new nests.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Tauriel was then left alone to contemplate the pile of spider carcasses before her. The evidence of the growing darkness over Greenwood was incontrovertible. That she was able to remain the Captain of the king’s guard was a blessing she did not deserve. She’d committed treason and felt she was no longer fit to serve the Elvenking. Thranduil showed her mercy when she could only hate herself for what she hissed at him in the heat of her anger in battle.

Her king had repaid her defiance with clemency so she would do her duty—ferociously cutting down Spiders and orc packs that dared breach Greenwood’s borders.

With a sigh, Tauriel followed her soldiers back to the Eastern gate of the palace. They obeyed her without question but they undoubtedly saw the unrestrained rage in her movements when she fought. They likely heard the rumors of her grief for the dwarf warrior Kili. Her grief was true, but she did not love him as they assumed. She also grieved for her fellow commanders and soldiers that fell to the savagery of those foul creatures who sought control of Erebor.

She felt Thranduil’s pain as if it were her own when he informed her of the totality of Elven casualties and of the departure of his son Legolas to join the Dunedain in the north. That was the moment when he told her she’d resume her position as captain. Her protest was at the tip of her tongue but it died when the king’s face darkened. He was stoic once more, cold yet beautiful, and she felt the reproach keenly. Elves had long memories—she feared Thranduil would never forget her flagrant disregard for his commands.

Tauriel had not seen him since but for occasional deferential glances from safe distance. Her reports were delivered in writing by her lieutenant to the king. Tauriel had no reason beyond her official duties to seek him out. She was shunned by most at court. Her final transgression was so unforgivable that she took a perverse satisfaction in her ostracism. She threatened their king with bodily harm and was blamed for the prince’s absence, though it was his own choice to leave.

In the following weeks, the Woodland realm saw a mysterious reprieve from the giant spiders. Tauriel roamed the entire forest that lay between the Elfpath and the Old Forest Road with her soldiers and none loosed a single arrow. Greenwood was seemingly safe for now.

* * *

 

When she was not patrolling or training her soldiers, Tauriel spent her time in the Halls of Healing. They were remote in relation to the King’s halls and she did not feel the repercussions of her actions so acutely here. She was not an expert healer as her power lay in arms and combat, but she did what she could. She sat with the wounded, spoke with them as they recovered, kept them company until they were strong enough to leave their beds. Some did not survive their wounds, and she wept at each of these losses.

The seasons passed slowly even for the Elves, as families mourned their deceased loved ones.

 _There is no love in you._  She’d said to Thranduil with an arrow aimed at his person. The gods only knew how deeply she regretted those shameful words. She meant to goad, to pierce through what she perceived to be indifference to the plight of the Men and Dwarves in battle. In the months that passed since then, she’d learned of Thranduil’s involvement in rebuilding Esgaroth and Dale. To those who’d lost everything to dragonfire, the Elvenking sent food, healers, and builders just before the winter truly arrived with its killing frosts. When the snows began in earnest, the discussion turned slowly to renewing diplomatic relations with the Dwarves. She heard whispers of the king’s visits to each family who’d lost a father, son, brother, to show his sympathy and respect.

 _There is no love in you._  Her own words pained her, and she continuously thought of that terrible moment in the lonely hours when sleep evaded her.

One afternoon, nearly five moons after the fight for the Lonely Mountain, she received summons from Dain—the new Dwarf King of Erebor. She read his words with bleak surprise. It seemed that his hatred of Thranduil her king had ebbed enough to offer back that which belonged to his people. She wondered that it was addressed directly to her, then realized Thorin’s company must have informed Dain of her attachment to one of his kin though they were misguided on the nature of that attachment. Kili was only a dear friend to her, who told her tales of places far beyond the Woodland realm and whose levity in troubled times made her smile. She’d not been able to attend their funerals for she was one of several who scoured the surrounding area for straggling orcs.

Tauriel sent a reply to the Dwarf king that she would wait until winter gave way to the early thaw of spring. Soon enough, the snow melted away and the well-worn paths to the Lonely Mountain were clear.

She set out for Erebor on the swiftest of horses available—only informing her lieutenant and the royal council that she was taking a small squadron on a patrol west of the capital. Tauriel mused with bitter irony that she was once again indirectly defying her king. He knew not the true reason for her journey. This time, she was certain that the reason was worth Thranduil’s scorn.

The gems of Lasgalen were indeed the most beautiful she’d ever seen in her seven centuries of life. Dain presented her what his uncle denied Thranduil so long ago. It was a rare gesture of goodwill, knowing she'd defied her lord's orders to help Dain's royal kin on Ravenhill. Her eyes filled with tears when she saw the beauty of the necklace that Thranduil had commissioned for his wife. She could only imagine the depth of the love he bore his dead queen that he would wage war for this last remnant of her. She then paid her respects to the fallen heir of Thror, and of course, Kili. Dain saw this and knew her to be sincere.

The ride back to Greenwood from the Lonely Mountain passed quickly as she beheld Thranduil in her mind’s eye. Tauriel and her steed needed neither sleep nor nourishment that the dwarves offered—the urgency to return these precious items far outweighed any discomfort. Dain recognized her urgency and was not slighted by it. He was wise enough to realize that an alliance between him and the Woodland realm would benefit all, as dark forces would gather strength in the days to come.

Upon her return, her lieutenant eyed her with barely disguised suspicion. Tauriel asked him to lie for her and though he followed his orders, she knew the deception irked him. She told him for better or worse, he would soon know the truth of it.   

* * *

She stepped into the king’s antechamber, pausing to strengthen her grip on the small wooden chest in her hands.  

Thranduil stood alone on his balcony with his back toward her. These chambers were above ground and carved into the side of the stone that housed his great fortress. She knew it was his lone indulgence to have his living quarters above ground. From here, he could see the river and into the forest beyond. He cut an imposing figure in the moonlight. She had to cross the expanse of his bedchamber to reach him, the slight turn of his head indicated he knew exactly who dared approach him.

Halting but a few steps from him, she stood silently until he addressed her.

“Tauriel.” Hearing her name in his resonant voice made her aware of exactly how much time had passed since he last addressed her directly. Her king was pensive this night. “I have scarcely seen you.”

“I have not been remiss in my duties, my lord.” She kept her pitch low, respectful.

At last, he turned his gaze fully toward her. She refrained from trembling at the sudden scrutiny. He looked upon her yet she could not meet his eyes for she knew she’d see cold disdain reflected there. Tauriel steeled herself—she was no frail flower, and she would not become one even in her contrition.

“Indeed, you have not.” Thranduil did not speak further. He noticed the chest she carried and raised his elegant brow in question.

“It is not nearly enough to earn your forgiveness, nonetheless I hope they bring you some semblance of joy.” She tarried no longer in opening the chest.

The moonlight shone upon the gems of Lasgalen and softly enveloped them both. She watched her king’s face as he set his eyes upon his wife’s necklace, which was nestled atop the rest of the unset stones. He looked from the jewels into her own face and she was shocked when she saw his expression soften imperceptibly.

When he made nary a move to take the chest from her, she began to doubt the wisdom of her actions. Legolas told her that his father never spoke of his mother’s death, or of her at all. It was not Tauriel’s intention to offend but rather to make amends.

“Am I to understand that you ventured to the new Dwarf king to retrieve these? You need not risk yourself to earn that which is already yours.” The Elvenking murmured. He knew without asking how she drove herself almost past her own strength to retrieve the gems from Erebor. He could sense it in her exhaustion she was laboring so hard to mask.

“ _Guren glassui,_ Tauriel _."_ Thranduil said after another long moment. 

She felt a renewed sense of shock at his gratitude. This time, her hands did tremble under the weight of the chest and she knew she must set it down or risk dropping it. She swiftly moved into his chamber to set it at the great oak desk that was adjacent to his bed. Thranduil followed her and somehow the moment felt more real inside among the dim light of the single lantern than it had while beneath the gentle glow of the stars and moon.

Tauriel shut the lid, hiding the jewels from sight. She stared at her hand upon the wood as her king stepped beside her, close enough that the hem of his resplendent grey robe brushed at her feet. Was this the same lord who slashed her bow in half with such deadly precision? Whose shoulders fell in sorrow when he watched his son defend her plea to come to the dwarves’ aid on Ravenhill? She felt the ever-present self-hatred flare at his kindness.

He must have seen the shadow cross her face, for he raised his hand to tilt her chin up to him.

“I committed myself to what I thought was right, and others have suffered greatly for the abundant folly of it. I would not wish that pain on anyone, least of all you.”

“You are our king,  _hîr vuin._ ” She said simply. "You are fair and wise, I saw what you and your advisors have done for those outside of our borders in the wake of all the destruction."

He seemed to consider her words, taking a deep breath and releasing it in a sigh. She had never witnessed him at ease as he was now. 

"I confess I was influenced by one wiser than I. Tauriel, you were justified in your anger. We cannot retreat from our allies when they are in need but I would not senselessly risk our own people."

His luminous eyes remained upon her. Then he shifted his hand from her chin to lightly rest on her cheek. The words she prepared in response eluded her as his thumb stroked her skin so softly that she swore she imagined it. She feared he could easily see that which she wished to conceal. She was reminded of his terse warning, so many moons ago, that she should not encourage his son’s affections.

Tauriel cleared her throat quietly. She said, “Do you recall when you bid me not to give Legolas hope?”

The very air between them seemed warm, even on this cool spring night. She had the distinct feeling of falling over a precipice from which there was no return. In the life of an immortal being, such permanence was frightening. She thought she’d forever soured any goodwill between her and Thranduil with her treasonous actions, but somehow this tension frightened her far more. In nature, tension eventually gave way to release—this was a path she could not allow him to lead her down.

When he inclined his regal head in answer, she watched as several strands of his pale hair fell forward.

“I would ask you now to do the same for me.” She stepped away from his touch and felt bereft.

Thranduil’s hand fell to his side slowly and regarded her with such intensity that she knew at once she must take her leave of him. The king stood alone once more in his chamber. The fire in the lantern had blown out some moments ago. He stared at the threshold of his chambers where his captain had just been, then turned to the wooden chest she’d left him.

The Elvenking opened the lid to behold the finely crafted necklace, still as pristine as the day it was created by the Dwarf-smiths of Moria. He thought of the woman for whom the necklace was meant so many centuries ago. The old pain resurfaced yet as he took the delicate strands of gold and silver into his hand, Thranduil imagined the necklace against skin as fair as lilies, surrounded by tresses the color of the setting sun.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU everyone who left feedback! I was so inspired that I finished a second chapter for this story. Forgive me but I succumbed to the need to write Thranduil/Tauriel in a rather fluffy scenario. I honestly hope this doesn't come off as utterly unbelievable...It's so fun to write for them. Anyway, thanks for reading!

Summer arrived with its humidity that was hard to escape even in the depths of the underground palace. Tauriel’s spirit was lifted by the sight of Greenwood as it should be—nothing could spoil the way the sunlight peeked through the dense green leaves of the mighty oak and beech trees. The terror and sadness of the last autumn and winter still weighed heavy on her though she knew they would lessen with time. The captain worked with her guards, drilling, training, ensuring they would not be complacent should new danger arise.

Tauriel may have her king’s pardon but the rest of the guard and royal council remained aloof. She paid it no mind as much as possible and simply carried on. Her habit of appearing in the Halls of Healing continued as it had for the past several moons. By this time, the rooms were far emptier than they’d been after the battle. There was, however, a special case whom Tauriel developed a fondness for.

“My lady, might I play outside this day?” The little girl’s voice, high in pitch and gentle of tone graced Tauriel’s ears as she stepped through the arch of the door.

“Melethril, you know the Healers prefer you stay abed.” The captain came to sit at the young elfling’s bedside, smiling at the child’s optimism. She was so very young, practically a newborn, and she’d not yet learned to temper her every thought or whim. The girl’s hope shined through her wide, almond shaped eyes and Tauriel knew this was not the end of it.

“My lady, _please!_ ” Came the plaintive request, followed by Melethril’s insistent hand on her forearm.

Tauriel laughed quietly. She had not the will to deny this little girl an afternoon of sunshine. She’d patrolled earlier in the day along the stretch of river that was just beyond the bridge past the Western gate and it was tranquil enough that Tauriel could bring her there.

“Very well, little one. You must promise to behave well and not stray far from me.” Tauriel stood again and went to the small table upon which sat a basket of summer cloaks and tunics. She selected a linen tunic and breeches for her. “Put these on and we shall be on our way.”

As Melethril leaped out of her bed to do as she was bid, Tauriel moved away to stand near the door and wait. She contemplated how she first made the young girl’s acquaintance. Melethril was an only daughter of Silvan heritage whose father perished during the battle for Erebor. Her mother had died of heartsickness not long after and left Melethril orphaned in the middle of winter. The child was brought to the Halls of Healing when she was found alone and collapsed in her family’s quarters.

She did not speak at all though she’d stared at Tauriel unblinkingly. The healers had seen to the girl’s physical health but beyond that were at a loss as to what more could be done. Tauriel never felt any stirrings of maternal feeling until she spent time with Melethril. After a particularly lengthy archery drill, Tauriel went to Melethril to feed her supper and was astonished when the girl moved to embrace the captain’s torso and refused to let go.

That was the night Tauriel learned the child’s name from her own lips.

“Ready my lady!” Melethril’s piping voice broke through Tauriel’s solemn reverie.

“Alright, stay close to me remember.”

The pair of them slipped out of the room and through the winding corridors. Tauriel grasped the child’s hand firmly and they walked together in the direction of the western side of the palace. The guards at the tall entrance recognized their commander even in her pale green dress of summer linen and lack of her usual array of weapons. They said nothing of the little one who accompanied her, though Melethril reached out and tapped one of their armored breastplates and delighted in the noise it made.

At last, they made it to the riverside where Tauriel watched the girl run as fast as her little slippered feet could carry her. She ran with the current of the river, racing the brightly colored fish she saw gleaming in the sunlight. The laughter and chatter was so wonderfully jarring. Tauriel remembered Melethril as a sickly, weeping child and compared her to the Melethril she knew now. It was a blessing from Eru that the girl could find joy in simple things once more.

Tauriel followed at a more civilized pace. She clasped her hands behind her back and felt the breeze in her hair. Her thoughts turned to Thranduil since the rushing river reminded her of his namesake. They did not speak of the necklace or gems again since she first returned them. He did his own duty, granting audiences, mediating disputes and dispensing justice, convening council meetings--all that a great king should do. She in turn received her orders from him and carried them out.

She was both relieved and disappointed that their exchange did not alter his treatment of her. Then Tauriel chastised herself— _I am not suitable for a king who has already loved and lost, whose nameless wife awaits him in Valinor._

When she suddenly realized that the cheerful laughter was no longer audible, Tauriel felt a flash of panic.

“Melethril, manke na lle? _”_ She cried, gathering her skirt and increasing her pace. She jogged briskly down the riverside and turned at the bend, where she knew the path led to a small clearing in the wood. Listening closely for any sign of the child, Tauriel gasped when Melethril leapt out of a low hanging tree branch and landed solidly on her shoulders.

“Here I am!”

“I am caught! Mercy!” Tauriel teased good-naturedly as she spun the girl in the circle. She carried her on her back and chased butterflies as Melethril commanded. She was relieved to find her young charge safe, and instinctively tightened her grip on her while she carried her.

After a little while longer, Tauriel set Melethril down and began to teach her the names of the plants on the forest floor. The girl listened keenly, her childish awe at the colors and scents again betrayed her age. Tauriel guessed she was perhaps eight or nine years old—so young to have lost as much as Melethril had.

Tauriel unclasped her light cloak and spread it upon the ground for them to sit. Melethril plucked handfuls of white and yellow woodland flowers. Some of the petals fell and scattered on the cloak as they set to work on making crowns out of the blooms.

It was the most at peace Tauriel had been in the better part of a year. In the warmth of the forest she allowed herself to imagine life not as a warrior but a mother, who ran a household rather than patrols. It was sweet yet nearly painful. Tauriel would not take a lover or husband when her heart remained steadfast to one forever out of reach.

“Lle tela _?”_ Tauriel asked, noting the frown of concentration on Melethril’s face.

“Ma!” To prove it, Melethril got up and stood behind Tauriel to place the crown of woodland flowers on her head. Grinning in amusement, Tauriel wondered what she looked like—the crown was sturdy and the stems braided, but it was an unshapely thing that pressed the curtain of her hair against her ears and covered them.

“Hannon le _,_ sweet one. I’m not worthy of this splendid work fashioned by your hand.”

“That’s not true, my lady. Lle naa vanima! _”_ The earnestness of Melethril’s speech caused Tauriel to smile widely and embrace her. These trips to the wood healed the little girl who opened up so completely in spite of her tragedy.

Both of them set to work on making a second, smaller crown out of the remaining flowers for Melethril, unaware that they were being observed from a slight distance.

* * *

 

Thranduil himself could not resist the call of the forest on a beautiful day as this. After losing his mount in battle, he ambitioned to raise and train another elk. He saddled his new mount and often took to riding the forest trails so that it grew accustomed to listening to his command given by rein and saddle. He was on his way back to the Keep when he heard a most curious sound: peals of a child’s laughter.

He slowed the elk to a trot then a walk, dismounting to see from whence the laughter came.

A maid and her daughter sat amidst a small clearing just off the path surrounded by what looked to be the remnants of the flowers they used to make simple crowns. The young girl lay on her stomach at the edge of the cloak, watching the small insects on the forest floor with fascination. The maid sat reclined with one hand on the floor and the other idly stroked her daughter’s hair.

The late afternoon light softened the colors around them such that Thranduil thought they were subjects of a painting come to life. His elk exhaled loudly and pawed the ground beside him, then the noise alerted the maid to the fact that they were no longer alone.

She spotted him almost instantly. Thranduil approached slowly and watched her urge her daughter to stand in his presence. With a start, he now saw this was Tauriel and knew then that the girl could not be her daughter.

“My lord, I am glad to find you well.” Tauriel graced him with one of her rare smiles, brimming with such happiness but tempered with caution.

“And I you, Tauriel. Who might your companion be?” He turned to the elfling beside his captain.

“I am Melethril,” The girl answered for herself, surprising both of the older elves. Tauriel looked as though she would admonish the girl for speaking out of turn but Thranduil spoke before she could do so.

“Melethril…cherished one. It is a beautiful name.” He was aware how his voice carried through the woods, how the little girl recognized who he was without having to be told. He smiled down at her, watching as his words put her at ease.

Tauriel glanced down at Melethril too as if silently reminding her to reply and the little girl charmingly said, “Hannon le _,_ hir vuin _.”_

He smiled briefly again at the child before returning his attention to the woman who occupied his thoughts more frequently than he would ever admit. Tauriel did not avoid him. Her duties kept her busy and Thranduil had his realm to care for. Each encounter outside of any official capacity was one to savor. He took in her unadorned dress and how its pale green enhanced her skin and softly waving hair.

As if she could sense his admiration, Thranduil saw her cheeks grow pink.

She spoke lightly to engage him in conversation. “How is your new mount? He looks ready for grander undertakings if I may say.”

The great elk eyed the two newcomers inquisitively with intelligent sloping eyes. Melethril stepped up fearlessly to stroke its soft nose and to her happiness, it lowered its head so she might have an easier time of it. Thranduil kept the reins in one hand and loosened his hold to facilitate the movement of the animal.

“He takes after his sire who was extraordinarily sure footed. He will make a fine steed when he reaches his prime.”

When the girl wrapped her little arms around the elk’s head, Thranduil and Tauriel quickly stepped aside to avoid being caught on the animal’s mighty antlers. The girl only giggled as the elk gently lifted its head to swing her to and fro.

“Melethril, this is the king’s noble mount, not a pet. You must not treat him as one.” Tauriel chastised as she encouraged her to let go. She scooped her up and clutched her easily to her chest. The girl fussed and Tauriel soothed her with easy familiarity. Thranduil felt something similar to possessiveness wash over him as he watched Tauriel with the little one. He was reminded of young Legolas in his queen’s arms and he marveled at the similarities between these moments separated by the span of centuries.

“My ladies, I regret to say that twilight fast approaches and I would not have you linger this far from the palace at the start of nightfall. Allow me to escort you back.”

So the king took Melethril from Tauriel and set her upon his elk, as he led the animal back to the path. Tauriel walked beside him and they spoke of many things. She always was sure to retreat from him before she forgot herself. He knew there were times when she could not hide love from her eyes and it almost overcame his silent agreement to leave their connection undefined. He too guarded himself closely.

It was a mixed blessing that they were not presently alone. Every part of him, body and mind, was aware of her proximity, her uncommon grace even for an elf, and the cadence of her speech. He never imagined that he could feel this way again. Legolas was for so long his only motivation to stay among the living to protect their great forest. Tauriel fought and challenged him just as much as Legolas had. She lived with the strength of her convictions but also supported his rule even when she was wrong. Thranduil knew how severely he tested her patience and loyalty to the breaking point in his dealings with dwarves and spiders. She hurt him and lashed out in return.

Now, they were in such close alignment that had they been but two simple wood-elves, there would be no doubt about their eventual joining. The sun set and twilight fell, in this blessed space between day and night Thranduil indulged himself in the wild thought that he, Tauriel, and the girl were a small family. They reached the gate where his grooms collected the reins to lead his elk to the stable. Melethril was once again nestled against Tauriel but she wriggled adeptly and hopped to her feet, only to launch herself at Thranduil.

Tauriel could not prevent the laugh that escaped her lips before clapping her hand over her mouth. Thranduil caught the girl before she could fall, chuckling himself as he felt her arms wind around his neck. Elflings were so rare in Greenwood that he’d forgotten how it felt to interact with small children.

He caught Tauriel’s eye then and the love she fought hard to hide from him was unmistakable. The words left his mouth almost before he knew he was speaking.

“Dine with me tonight.” The king said gruffly, quite affected by the sight of her.

Thranduil saw how she looked conflicted and knew her answer.

“My lord, I beg you remember your promise.”

Even as it cut him to agree, he could only nod in assent.

He set Melethril down and bade her good evening, then watched Tauriel take the girl by the hand back to the Halls of Healing. He knew not what ailed the child but suspected that Tauriel had much to do with her recovery.

Eru knew that his Silvan captain had much to do with his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin translations:  
> 1) “Merethril, manke na lle?” - Merethril, where are you?  
> 2) “Lle tela?” – Are you finished?  
> 3) “Ma!” – Yes!  
> 4) “Hannon le, hir vuin. » - Thank you/Thank you my lord (reverential)  
> 5) “Lle naa vanima!” - You are beautiful!


	3. Chapter 3

It was a long day in the Hall of Swords—Tauriel hadn’t stopped moving for hours, only pausing to switch from her knives to demonstrate the technique of her single blade. The Woodland realm retained four active companies of troops since the Battle of Five Armies and by order of the king, this force of one thousand was divided into two hundred fifty each. It was a relatively small force, certainly, but it was a sign that the Elvenking sought to be proactive about his realm’s defense.

Tauriel was named commander of one of these companies, promoted from her rank as captain, and she set high standards for all. She was an excellent teacher with a good eye for bad form or carelessness in her soldiers. Not that there were many who were careless, she commanded some of the best fighters. After their weapons and combat drills, she planned to strengthen their strategic and tactical thinking.

Just then, she spotted a blade twist incorrectly as its wielder sliced through the air and brought it down an invisible foe. The angle of the strike could fatally delay the elf’s ability to parry in true combat.

Tauriel approached this soldier among the line of troops continuing to drill, all their movements beautifully synchronous. She saw the undisguised scorn in his eyes. He was tall and slim with long pale hair and fine features that spoke of Sindarin descent so she resolved to be diplomatic in her instruction.

“Your footwork is excellent but you must adjust your hold to get a cleaner strike.” Tauriel said evenly. The soldier lowered his sword and appeared to listen. She felt his gaze travel from her eyes down the rest of her and she was immediately conscious of his disapproval. She knew exactly why—this Sindar elf could not understand why their king would raise her up. This was what she feared but so far had not experienced when Thranduil elevated her position just two moons past. It seemed the grace period was over.

When he spoke, his smooth voice was at odds with his words. “I will not be advised by a woman. I fought Azog’s orcs in the valley when you were nowhere to be found.”

The insult stung bitterly. She thought of Bolg, how she nearly fell to her death while fighting him. She thought of Kili, run through by the monster’s blade. She remembered Legolas, risking himself to finish off the disgusting filth.

“You forget yourself, soldier. I have seen combat as well as you and know of what I speak. You will correct your strike or I will show you the way of it before your comrades.” Tauriel was commander for a reason and she would not stand for insolence.

To her chagrin, this soldier straightened his spine and squared himself toward her. She recognized his challenge. She would oblige him or risk her credibility among the company she was given. Feren, her lieutenant now made captain, noticed the brewing dispute and called for the rest to halt their sequence. The soliders did as they were told, stepping back and leaving Tauriel alone with her challenger.

“If I best you in combat, I claim your position of leadership.” Daeron was undeniably bold. It was exceedingly rare for a warrior to challenge their royally appointed commanding officer. Daeron was the son of one of the king’s revered advisers. He burned with the impulse of youth. She thought him to be younger than her by perhaps a hundred years.

Tauriel banished all other thoughts from her mind. She stepped five paces from him and drew her own blade from its sheath. Feren shifted uneasily in her peripheral vision.

“Should you lose, you will be dismissed from your duties—Daeron, son of Tirithon.”

“Then it is fortunate this will not come to pass.” Came his lofty response.

Their swords sang when they crashed together. Both moved fluidly without any sign of fatigue. Tauriel saw his anger that drove each move and how it was fueled by his dislike of her. She knew her promotion would rankle members of the nobility but she didn’t quite envision _this_.

Her steps were light but so were his. Both donned chainmail tunics, but she had a slight advantage in speed because of her smaller build. The rest of the hall regarded them with interest. Tauriel’s captains saw the superior athleticism of their new commander but there was no doubt that all saw the politics behind this fight.

Time passed at length but no one dared take their eyes from their commander. Feren watched with concern when he saw Tauriel begin to favor her right arm where she had an old injury from the Battle of Five Armies. Clearly, Daeron noticed it too for he increasingly aimed his strikes where she would have to block on that side.

It was a clever tactic. Daeron disregarded the rules of the training hall and struck her sword with all the force he could muster, leaving her completely vulnerable to him as her arm fell for just a split second. He raised the back of his hand and struck her, hitting her in the mouth. Then he stepped close and dropped into a low spin that took her feet from under her. She hit the floor hard, head spinning at the stone floor’s impact with her skull. Her opponent knelt over her, the thrill of victory fierce in his visage.

“I demand you yield, _commander._ ” He spat mockingly.

Tauriel brought her knee up painfully between his legs and delivered a sharp push kick to his chest, sending him tumbling backwards. Daeron lost his balance and landed on his back, while Tauriel sprang up by her own momentum. She stood over him and held her blade to his throat, relishing despite herself, this defeat.

“You will report to the throne at once to explain why you are no longer worthy to serve in the Elvenking’s army. Leave this hall in your disgrace.” She said steadily in spite of the blood dripping from her broken lip.

As soon as she stood and stepped away from him, Feren hauled him up and pushed him roughly in the direction of the arched doorway. They left the hall silently without any further hysterics. Tauriel stood alone in the midst of the rest of her soldiers, breathing hard. She sheathed her sword and straightened her tunic and mail.

“The next one to challenge my authority or that of my captains’ in such a manner shall fall just the same. There is no place for vanity in my battalion. We are not each other’s enemy. Go forth, your drills are done for this day.” Tauriel looked each of them in the eye and saw no malice. If they did not respect her personally, they respected her ability to discipline and her prowess in close combat.

It was then that her body seemed to register the pain. She reached up and felt the base of her skull beneath her hair where the skin was broken and beginning to form a bruise. She used the edge of her tunic sleeve to wipe at the blood on her chin and lip, grimacing at the sharp jolt.

Later that evening in her quarters, she heard a knock at her door.

“King Thranduil asks that you meet him in his solar, my lady.” The messenger said placidly after she pulled the door open to receive him.

“Tell him I shall come.” Tauriel bit back a sigh. He must have heard the particulars of what transpired from Daeron by now.

* * *

 

“Have you been seen to?” Thranduil descended upon her and she was startled by the brusqueness of his tone. Tauriel was amazed, maybe a bit stupidly, at his intimidating height as he bent to survey her head injury.

“Do not trouble yourself my lord.” She said irritably. She couldn’t help herself. It was his promotion of her that offended many on the royal council, her fellow commanders and much of the Sindarin nobility. She thought haplessly that she did not blame them for their skepticism. “I regret that I displease so many of your servants.”

“You ascended on your own merit.” The king retorted, equally irritated.

“If the others could only be convinced of that, it may strengthen what little legitimacy I might have!”

“There is no systemic rejection of your command, Tauriel. My soldiers are of the highest caliber and will obey you or risk the punishment befitting mutiny.”

“Evidently one of them has already sought to test the limits of your patience. It is not yet too late to retract what you’ve bestowed to avoid another such incident.”

“You have pushed and pushed for greater responsibility. Now that you have it, you would so soon forsake it?” Irritation was soon turning to true anger.

This was a discussion they’d already had but never quite resolved. The reprieve they saw from the giant spiders turned out to be short lived. Now in late summer when the days grew shorter once again, the creatures returned tenfold from Dol Guldur, building nests for their spawn. They destroyed crops, villages, and spoiled the forest just south of the capital. Thranduil rallied their troops to clear these things from their lands. It seemed Tauriel finally succeeded in convincing the king to eliminate them at the source.

At Dol Guldur, Tauriel and her troops did not venture far into the mountains, only staying as long as needed to set fire to the biggest nests any of them had ever seen, and slaughter all of the fully grown spiders. They regrouped and journeyed northwest, fording the Anduin, and together with Imladris’s forces, greatly reduced the Goblin threat on the eastern side of the Misty Mountains. She devised the strategy, organized the soldiers and executed the plans, as Legolas may have done if he were here in her place. Therein lay the foremost resistance to Tauriel’s post as commander. It was meant for the king’s son. Not the she-elf who drove the prince off. Thranduil’s favor on her drew whispers as to why she was chosen for this honor. None of these rumors were flattering to either her or the king.

“Daeron was the only one who dared vocalize his disapproval. How many others are of similar mind, if not voice?” Tauriel paced cagily, arms crossed defensively. In her agitation, she resembled the mountain lionesses that lived in the foothills south of their realm.

“Daeron’s heart is full of a child’s envy. That much was easily discernible when he came to me. He will be barred from serving in the companies and reassigned to guard duty in the dungeons.” Thranduil replied. He’d mastered his anger and his customary poise returned. Tauriel exhaled with sympathy at Daeron’s humiliating demotion.

“A child indeed. He must view me as equally young and inexperienced to rebel so audaciously.”

“What you’ve seen in the recent past has long rid you of any such illusions. You are not naïve. You know now what dangers lie beyond our borders.”

Tauriel seemed to come back to herself. She shook her thoughts free of dragons, spiders, orcs and goblins. She ceased her pacing and moved to stand before him, conscious of his imposing stature again. Her king wore a brocaded robe of midnight blue that showed how broad of shoulder he was. His slim white gold circlet rested above his strong brow and his eyes were arresting as they always were to her.

“I’m sorry, sire. Surely you did not ask me here to argue.”

His eyes seemed to laugh then but his expression was one she could not read. His voice dropped in pitch and the timber was almost unbearably intimate. “No, surely not.”

“If not to verbally spar, what would you have of me?” She noted the way he drew breath with much pretense at control. Thranduil was tempted to do _something_ and the thought was delicious in its forbidden way, enough to make her forget the disaster in the Hall of Swords and their heated discourse from just a moment ago.

The two stood together, far closer than they have ever been. Had she closed the distance, or did he? Her old insecurity was there, thumping with her heartbeat. Yet as days bled into weeks and months she knew the promise she wrought from him became less and less relevant. Every meeting of their gazes seemed to give her hope where there should have been none. The difference now was that she could no longer bring herself to hate him for it.

Even as she brushed her hands up his arms to rest on his biceps, she tried to remember that his wife the queen was still bound to him in the Halls of Mandos. He was unnaturally still beneath her hands and felt warmer and more alive than his cold beauty ever suggested.

She was taken aback when that small touch ignited something in him and the familiar austerity he exuded for all the centuries she’d known him melted away, leaving him raw and open to her. She marveled that she had this effect on him.

Their lips met softly, her hands coming up to rest on his cheeks. She felt his old scar on the left side of his face, her compassion for his suffering swelling within her. He removed the illusion that concealed his scar, and pulled her gently against him and both reveled in the contact. Her own lip pained her not under the sweetness of his kiss. She opened to him, tasting him and thinking that it was far more intoxicating than any wine. He was not forceful and maddeningly, it compelled her to try eliciting more from him.

Restraint and willpower on both their parts grew limited as their kisses rose in passion. Tauriel felt woefully out of her depth. This was the first time she’d ever kissed so brazenly.

They broke apart, the space between them too much and not enough.

“Thranduil,” She called him by his name for the first time and she saw how it pleased him to hear it. She regretted what she had to say next. “I would not presume to have you dishonor the memory of your wife, Legolas’s mother. I cannot be yours, I can never be.”

Thranduil looked pained at the mention of his first wife and then his son’s name. She knew the prince wrote to his father from time to time but no written word could ever assuage his sadness at Legolas’s absence.

“Did Finwë not take a second wife after he long mourned his first? My regard for you is sincere, Tauriel. I would call you wife.” The Elvenking’s deep, measured tones were at odds with the color in his face and quickened rise and fall of his chest. She was startled to see real anguish there. It was like glimpsing the tempest inside her, seeing her tumult reflected back.

Tauriel was no scholar but she knew the lore of the Noldorin king who married twice.

“I am neither Míriel Therindë nor Indis. I am a Commander of the forces of the Woodland realm. I am no highborn elf--I was never meant for such a station.” Her voice broke and she looked away in embarrassment.

Tauriel thought of the thousand other reasons why his proposal was absolutely ludicrous when Thranduil took her hands into his. She looked back at him and saw him calm, collected.

“I have been blessed with images of things to come, perhaps in time we will find our way toward that wondrous path.” The king kissed her hands then released her. Tauriel drank in the sight of his lips on her skin and swallowed thickly.

“My lord, may it be so.” She could not suppress the hope that filled her at the implications of his words. Her steps and heart were heavy as she departed from him.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and welcoming me to the Thranduil/Tauriel ship! I'd love to write a followup to this if there is interest. :) Have a happy new year!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Sindarin translations: http://www.realelvish.net/101_sindarin.html  
> 1) "Guren glassui" - Thank you from my heart  
> 2) "Hîr vuin" - beloved lord


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